Poems (E. L. F.)/The Star
For works with similar titles, see The Star.
THE STAR.
A bright, lonely star
In the dark heavens played,
And it seemed from afar
Like a thing that had strayed;
For it seemed to disown,
In my fancy's wild play,
The bright things that shone
In their myriad array.
Oh, I love the bright star!
For it whispers to me—
Though the clouds be my car,
Still I watch over thee.
Thou art dear to my heart,
Oh, sweet vision of night!
My life is a part
Of thy being bright.
I watch thee when midnight
Hath darkened the earth,
And that pure delight
Is sweeter than mirth.
Away with the brightness
That's not from above!
I worship no lightness
That breathes not of love.
In the dark heavens played,
And it seemed from afar
Like a thing that had strayed;
For it seemed to disown,
In my fancy's wild play,
The bright things that shone
In their myriad array.
Oh, I love the bright star!
For it whispers to me—
Though the clouds be my car,
Still I watch over thee.
Thou art dear to my heart,
Oh, sweet vision of night!
My life is a part
Of thy being bright.
I watch thee when midnight
Hath darkened the earth,
And that pure delight
Is sweeter than mirth.
Away with the brightness
That's not from above!
I worship no lightness
That breathes not of love.